Winding Roads
by Ash Light
Summary: On the road to Hollin, Sam falls ill with a fever. Beset with danger and surrounded by enemies, the Fellowship must discover true camaraderie, and learn how they would suffer, should they be pulled apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Lord of the Rings_. I just adore the book, the film and each and every member of the Fellowship, and a few other characters besides.

**A/N:** Good day, peoples. This story was created yesterday, in the confines of my own head, while I was stuck inside a traffic-jam for three hours. That would explain all the illness and terror and general hobbit-angst put in here. Actually, I'd probably have put hobbit-angst in anyway. Everyone loves downcast hobbits who need lots of hugs.

Don't they?

Anyway, enjoy, read, and review. And send hugs for the poor people in this fic.

Enjoy!

-0000-

"You _did_, Merry!"

"I most certainly did _not_!"

"There's no point in lying to me, Mer, I'm your cousin. I can _tell_ when you're lying, and this time you _are_. You most certainly _did_!"

"Peregrin Took, while the idea may have occurred to _you_, _several_ times, if the tales are to be believed…"

"_Hoy_!"

"_I_ would certainly have nothing to do with those kinds of antics."

"Rubbish!" Pippin stamped his foot out of impatience, "I _saw_ you Merry, don't you deny it! Frodo was there, weren't you Fro? Frodo? _Frodo_!"

Boromir looked up from the campfire, where he had unsuccessfully been trying to prompt a spark to come from the damp wood. He scowled, and threw down the tinderbox Gimli had given him, "I cannot believe the fortitude, not to mention the sheer _stamina_ of these hobbits," He murmured, "Can it really be possible that they have been talking about the same subject for _two hours_?"

Frodo smiled, looking softly at his two cousins, now facing each other almost nose-to-nose (Pippin had to stand on his toes in order to achieve this) bristling with, if not anger, sheer irritation, "Aye, well," He said gently, "The subject concerns a young, if not extremely fair, young lass from Buckland for whom Merry has long nursed a fondness for. But I'm sure nothing, ah, _untoward_ has come about."

Sam looked up from preparing lunch and let out a barely-suppressed 'humph', which led Boromir to believe that, if he asked the gardener, he could tell more tales about Master Meriadoc and this fair lass than the warrior could ask for. From the beginning of the Quest, Boromir had held the suspicion that Samwise knew more about every affair and doing in the Shire than he let on, and while Frodo, Merry and Pippin talked about the goings-on with great gusto, Sam kept his mouth shut, saving the information for when the time was right. Boromir raised an eyebrow at Sam, and was rewarded with a small smile. The hobbit shook his head at the two cousins, and returned to skinning the rabbits Legolas had caught, coughing slightly.

Turning his attention back to the two youngest hobbits, Boromir saw that Pippin was now smirking triumphantly at his cousin, whereas Merry was rapidly colouring a bright red. Obviously new evidence, supplied by the ever-persistent Pippin, had come to light.

"And if that is not enough proof for you," Pippin carried on, "then, _what_, one might ask, was Odo Bolger doing, chasing you down the East Road for a fair three miles, carrying a pitchfork and growling something about ending the line of Masters of Buckland?"

Boromir heard a small laugh from beside him and looked around to see the Ringbearer, shoulders shaking, "Oh lawks," Frodo gasped, trying not to laugh, "but I had forgotten about that. And now I shall never forget it until the day I die. Odo Bolger sprinting down the East Road, swinging that pitchfork as if it was a spear, and poor old Merry right in front of him, running pell-mell as if all the forces of Mordor were upon him – oh dear, oh dear!" And with that Frodo collapsed into peal after peal of joyous laughter that set echoes ringing all about them.

Pippin tossed his head confidently, staring his cousin straight in the eye, daring him to deny it. Merry folded his arms and glowered back at him, calculating brown eyes searching Pippin's face, before turning on his heel and storming off, defeated, to sit next to Sam.

Pippin let out a triumphant crow, gleeful at getting the better of the older hobbit for once, "I told you! I told you I was right, didn't I Frodo? Didn't I Gandalf – I _told_ you I was right!"

Gandalf nodded distractedly, busy staring into the distance and planning their next move, "Yes, Peregrin," He muttered, "You were right, as you usually claim to be."

Pippin ignored the jibe, and stuck his hands into his pockets, wandering up to Gandalf, "You remember Estella Bolger, don't you Gandalf? Or _Miss_ Bolger, as Frodo says we should call her now. You _must_ have seen her at Bilbo's last birthday party, at least. She's the rather pretty lass with a sharp tongue that Merry keeps staring like a lost puppy at – _ow_!"

The wizard turned his eye to Pippin, who was rubbing the back of his head from where a rock had struck him squarely, "Yes, Peregrin. I remember," he said loudly, before adding, in a more quiet and urgent voice, "Will one of you kindly remove this hobbit to where he will no longer be a nuisance?"

Aragorn, who had by now become accustomed to Pippin's mood and had no wish to deal with the youngest hobbit, smiled wryly and puffed his pipe, eager to see who would be brave enough to 'remove' Pippin. Legolas immediately began to restring his bow, keeping one eye on the man and the dwarf. Gimli shook his head, wondering why Gandalf was even bothering to ask them. Boromir hurriedly began poking the fire again.

Sam looked from Pippin to Merry again. Pippin was grinning broadly at his cousin, bouncing on the balls of his feet and obviously barely containing himself from chanting 'I was right'. Merry was looking positively down-trodden. Sighing, the gardener put down the coneys he had been preparing and cleared his throat, coughing furiously a few times before he was able to speak.

"Pardon me, Master Pippin," Sam called, his voice slightly weaker than usual, "But do you really think it's fittin' for you to be teasin' your cousin 'bout Miss Bolger, specially after all that time you spent with young Miss Diamond at the Midsummer Fair last year?"

Sam's efforts were not unrewarded. Pippin stopped in mid-bounce and landed awkwardly on the rocks below him, too stunned to even cry out in pain. His cocky smile had melted away as if Sam had simply scrubbed it off, becoming replaced with a nervous, guilty look that reminded Boromir of a rat in a trap. Eyes darting from Sam to Frodo, who was peering around Boromir's side to study his cousin carefully, Pippin took a step back, attempting to judge just how much trouble he was in.

"Now then, Sam," Pippin stammered, shifting from one foot to the other, "you really should know that there is no harm in spending time with a lass, especially when you happen to be good friends with her."

"Aye," Sam nodded, ducking his head to hide the slight smile on his face. Oh, it was a treat to watch the young Took squirm, Boromir thought, surveying Pippin with interest, "but there is a bit more harm with it when the young lass is without a chaperone, as you were just sayin' to Mister Merry there, sir."

Boromir turned his head to the aforementioned Merry, whose dismayed countenance had vanished, a gleeful smile in its place. In a second, Boromir saw Sam's plan. 'Oh, well done, Master Samwise,' he thought, 'well done indeed.'

The young Took scrambled up onto on of the rocks behind him, his face becoming a rather pale shade of green. Frodo leant forward, a rather mischievous smile, that Boromir had never seen before, on his face, "Yes, Peregrin," He said, "Sam is quite right. And what is even more terrible is that the lass in question has not yet come of age, which makes the whole situation quite worse."

Pippin spluttered and actually fell off his perch, gasping for breath, "Fr…Frodo!" He yelped, still coughing and struggling for air, "You….you d…don't think I….I actually…well…I…Frodo!"

"Oh, well," Merry put in, "You two _were_ missing and unaccounted for for about three or four hours after the festivities were finished," Pippin's head whirled around to face Merry, utter horror etched over his face, "And no chaperone, mark you. Now _that's_ the sort of thing that spreads rumours all about the Shire. It's certainly reached Buckland – I suppose it's the talk of Hobbiton by now, Sam?"

Sam nodded, an innocent smile on his face as Pippin's jaw started to go slack, "Aye, Mister Merry, that it is. It's sure to have reached young Diamond's father by now."

"And I understand he's a farmer," Frodo murmured thoughtfully, adding the final touch, "Now _he'll_ be a one with a large collection of pitchforks – not to mention scythes."

Pippin's eyes had grown as large as coins. As they looked guiltily from Frodo, to Merry, to Sam, Boromir finally cracked and burst into peals of laughter, arms locked around his belly for fear of letting the mirth explode from within him. First Merry, then Frodo followed, loud, joyful giggles that rang merrily about the valley. Sam valiantly managed to refrain from laughing out loud, but a broad smile donned his face, and as Boromir looked up from where he had collapsed on the ground, the smile twitched from time to time as the rabbit stew was prepared.

Pippin looked about helplessly at the rest of the Fellowship, who by now had either succumbed to their mirth and were laughing gleefully, or were still fighting the urge to smile. His eyes, now a mixture of fear, guilt, anger and utter confusion, scanned the landscape until they finally came to rest on his three fellow hobbits.

"_Frodo_!" He wailed, "That isn't fair! I'd never do _anything_ to sully Di's reputation, you know that!"

"Oh, Pip!" Frodo sighed, pulling himself up, "We know you wouldn't do anything indecent where Diamond is concerned. Everyone knows that…but it still _is_ rather interesting gossip. I don't want to know _what_ went on between the two of you after the Fair – and believe me, the last thing I want is to find out – but I assure you, you have done nothing to harm Diamond's reputation."

"Aye!" Merry gasped from where he had keeled over next to Boromir, "If anything, she has sullied yours!" This was all he managed to push out before bursting out laughing again, collapsing face first onto the grass and twitching weakly.

Pippin pulled himself up, fuming slightly, "What is _that_ meant to mean?"

"Nothing!" Still spluttering with laughter, Merry managed to prop his head up on his hands to stare up at his cousin, "Listen, Pip – I _am _very fond of Diamond; she's one of the dearest, sweetest lasses I know – if not a little….er…._coy_. _Flirtatious_, maybe. But you'll have to face it – she's fast growing up, and that little tweenager who used to wear two little braids and scrape her knees is getting quite a bit of attention other than your own."

Pippin scowled for a minute, torn between smiling in relief and kicking Merry in the face, "I'm not showing any attention towards her," He finally mumbled.

"Oh, _Pippin_!" Merry burst out, "You're amongst friends. There's no need to protest so. I saw the way your jaw dropped a good three inches when our little Tookish lass arrived at Frodo's last birthday party. But that really is nothing to be ashamed about," The Brandybuck continued as Pippin's face started to turn scarlet, "A fair number of other lads were suddenly staring in her direction as well."

Boromir, still weakly shaking with delight, looked with new amusement at Pippin, "Who is this lass who appears to have our young Took ensnared, that he tries to protect her reputation so diligently?"

"She's my _friend_," Pippin said fiercely, to loud snorts of disbelief from Merry and Frodo, "A very good friend of mine, no matter what these two might think."

Boromir raised an eyebrow towards Pippin. In the background, Gandalf had abandoned all signs of gruffness and was now chortling away quite heartily. Legolas was merely looking amused at Pippin's predicament, and Aragorn, who had heard the argument between Pippin and Merry several times already, was laughing quite loudly. Gimli just frowned, utterly bemused.

Sam, who had been preparing the stew all through this discussion, was struggling slightly to make his voice be heard, "Mister Merry," He called feebly, "Mister Merry, could you pass my box of seasonings this way, please?"

Merry threw the box deftly over to Sam, who held his hands out ready. For a second, the box spun through the air – and then, to Boromir's surprise, slipped straight through Sam's fingers and landed a good five feet away from him.

"That's odd," Pippin voiced the thoughts of all the Fellowship, "You're usually so good at catching, Sam."

Sam smiled, and shrugged, crawling over to where the box had landed. But Boromir noticed that his hands were trembling slightly as they picked the box up, and his face was shaken.

Frowning, Frodo got up and walked over to Sam, who by now was sprinkling some salt and pepper over the stew, "Are you alright, lad?" He asked gently, "You look a little worn."

Uneasy at the thought of his master inquiring about _his_ welfare, Sam shook his head, "I'm fine, thank you Mister Frodo," He mumbled.

The older hobbit shook his head, his eyes focused at Sam. The lad's hands were indeed trembling as they tightened their grip on the cooking pot. Sam's breath was coming in slight gulps, as if he had just run a great distance – and yet Sam had been sitting with the rest of them for at least half an hour. And Sam's face was paler than it should have been, his usually pink cheeks (flushed from some ridiculous embarrassment or other) now tinged with grey. Taken aback by the sudden change in his friend, Frodo placed a gentle hand on Sam's brow, and his eyes widened with surprise at how clammy he was.

"Sam, my lad, you are definitely not well."

Sam shook his head violently, stirring the stew with renewed vigour, "I'm alright, really, Mister Frodo," He protested, "Just a little tired is all."

Pippin scrambled up to Sam, "What's the matter, Frodo? Is Sam sick?"

"Yes," Frodo said firmly, just as Sam let forth with a resounding, "No!" Master and servant glared determinedly at each other, before Frodo gave in, "Maybe he isn't _sick_, Pippin, but he certainly isn't well."

"That's the same as being sick," Pippin said cheerfully, "Sam, do you need me to help with lunch? I'll take your watch for you tonight if you like, seeing as you'll be needing all your sleep, what with you being sick and all."

"I'm _fine_, Master Pippin."

Merry frowned, "You don't _look_ well, Sam. And you've been coughing all morning – don't try and deny it. Maybe you need a bit of a rest. You just sit down over there and let me and Frodo look after lunch, alright?"

Sam's face was now starting to turn a dull pink, "I don't need any help, Mister Merry, if you'll excuse me. I need to finish lunch."

Frodo and Merry exchanged glum looks, realising that if this stubborn hobbit was to refuse help, any condition he had would become worse. Pippin, by now far too caught up in helping 'poor Sam', knelt down beside him.

"I still think you look ill Sam," The youngest hobbit voiced, "Perhaps Aragorn could have a look at you. He's good with medicines and whatnot. Aragorn, can you come over here and have a look at Sam? Or Gandalf. Gandalf's very good at seeing what's wrong with people. And I'm sure elves know a lot of remedies for sickness. Legolas can help find you one. I'll check your temperature, that's what my nurse always did with _me_…."

By now used to how Sam would react when fussed over, Frodo threw out a hand, "Pip, don't…"

But almost bubbling over with excitement, Pippin pushed back Sam's sandy locks and placed his hand with expert precision over his forehead.

Sam's face was now a definite shade of red. His expression etched with irritation and impatience at the young Took, Sam flung out his hand and pushed Pippin away from him. Pippin landed with a bump on the floor and stayed there, too shocked to move.

"I'm fine!" Sam snapped, now raising his voice so every member of the Fellowship was staring at him, "I'm _fine_, masters, so if you please, will you leave me alone?" And with that he gritted his teeth and began to stir the lunch again.

Pippin was blinking up at Sam, big green-gold eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. Merry sat behind him, not sure whether to hit Sam or tell Pippin 'Fro told you so'. Frodo was staring at his gardener in utter shock, unable to believe it was his dear Sam who had spoken to Pippin in such a manner. Boromir's mouth was hanging open in confusion, Legolas had frozen, and Gimli's eyes had widened. Aragorn, filled with amazement, and warning, turned round and shared a glance with Gandalf, who was studying the hobbit with both surprise and care. One look from the wizard told Aragorn everything he needed to know – neither of them had ever seen Sam act like that before.

The hobbit sat silently as he dished out the stew, before pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face into them. Aragorn knew the reason Sam was so silent was he had never even raised his voice to a member of the gentry before – at least, not unless he was defending or looking after Frodo, and then only in firm fairness. Sam's father would have taught him from an early age to know his place amongst the gentlehobbits, and Sam remembered it – Sam was one of the most mild-mannered people he had met.

"You do not eat, Master Gamgee?" Aragorn asked. Although nothing compared to the ravenous appetites of Merry and Pippin, Sam would eat heartily at every meal-time, provided he could make Frodo eat the same.

Sam shook his head, a pair of misty-grey eyes peering over the top of his kneecaps, "I'm not hungry, sir," He managed to mumble. Merry and Pippin exchanged surprised glances.

Aragorn set down his own bowl and walked over to where Sam was sitting, "May I at least check that you are not in any immediate danger from an illness, Sam?" He asked gently.

Sam shook his head violently, "I'm fine, sir."

"Sam," Frodo's voice rang out firmly, "Let Strider check that you are alright."

Not able to disobey a direct order from his master, Sam reluctantly pulled his legs down and let Aragorn look at him. Shaking his head in concern, Aragorn felt a small twinge of irritation that this obstinate hobbit had not complained sooner before. The symptoms that Frodo had noted were all there, by now more so. Sam's eyes were more watery than usual, his hands were trembling quite fiercely, and by now his breath was coming in short gulps and pants. Placing two fingers on the underside of Sam's wrist, Aragorn sighed as he felt how fast it was racing, "You have a fever, Samwise," Aragorn said, "I do not know what kind, nor how you have caught it. Perhaps you have chosen to ignore it for a while, but you will not be able to do so for long. We are miles from civilisation, and my herbs are limited. I may be able to find such remedies in the wild, but if not, you have placed yourself in danger."

Sam's eyes widened, "I didn't want to be any trouble, sir," He croaked.

Frodo shook his head, placing his arms around Sam's shoulders, "Oh, Sam, you silly ass," He half-laughed, "You've never been any trouble. But you should have told us beforehand."

"Aye," Gandalf muttered, "We are hard-pressed for speed. A sick hobbit will only hinder us in the attempt, Samwise. You should have made your illness known to us sooner!"

Sam face scrunched up with shame, and he buried his head in his hands. Faced with the angry glares of three hobbits, and suddenly overcome with pity for the little one, Gandalf sighed.

"Forgive me, Sam," He said gruffly, patting Sam on the back, "I was wrong. But we will have to hurry, to find a sheltered spot before nightfall. This foolish hobbit will need all the rest he can have!"

As the Fellowship packed up and began to depart, Gandalf took the ranger to one side, "Do you know what type of fever ails Master Samwise?" He asked quietly.

"No, but I have guessed," Aragorn whispered, "But I will not reveal it to you yet, for fear I should be right. We should make to discover how long Sam has had the illness. Time is everything," He shook his head grimly, "A plague on the stubbornness of the hobbits! They are twice as wilful as the dwarves!"

"And twice as hardy," Gandalf grumbled, though he was smiling, "Sam's a fighter, he'll pull through. The only worry I have is whether he'll pull through well enough to reach our destination before the next winter sets in!"

Further down the line, Legolas was busy taking packs off Bill, "Sam's not the only one who is tired," He informed a dismayed looking Pippin, while strapping a pack to the young hobbit's back, "Bill has been carrying these packs over all sorts of terrain for too long. We will let him have the light luggage, while we look after the heavy."

"Brilliant," Pippin muttered to a grinning Merry, "Leagues away from the Shire and I'm still a pack-horse."

Sam took his own pack and strapped it to his pack, swaying slightly. Frodo shook his head, "No, Sam, you don't carry anything this time."

The younger hobbit frowned, "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but I reckon I'll be able to carry my own pack. There's not that much in it," He reassured his master, lying straight through his teeth.

Frodo glared at Sam. Sam was one of the dearest hobbits he knew, one of the most loyal, kind hobbits – but his unselfishness, not to mention plain pig-headedness, could lead a hobbit to drastic measures if he wasn't well-disciplined.

"Aragorn says you need to rest and not overwork yourself!"

Sam sighed, "And I say he's makin' mountains out o' molehills. No offence to Strider, but I don't reckon this so-called fever is half as bad as he makes out. Big People are always makin' things twice as bad as they really are," Sam grinned weakly at Frodo's exasperated look, "Really, Mister Frodo, I'll be alright."

Frodo rolled his eyes, "Drat it, Sam, I thought you'd learned!" He sighed, restraining the urge to forcibly remove the pack from Sam, "Alright, I'll let you carry that pack, but if you start to lag behind, I'll have Aragorn carry you across our way, pack and all!"

Sam flushed, horrified at the idea of Aragorn carrying _him_ through the rocks and trees. Why, Mister Frodo was probably just as tired as him – and he had a heavier burden to carry. Surely it would be more fitting for _him_ to be carried than Sam – he could easily make it by himself.

"Come along, young hobbits," Gimli said gruffly, patting Frodo on the back so hard it shot the Ringbearer forward a couple of steps, "Come up to the front with me, Master Baggins, and I shall recount to you the history of our people, and the victories we won in Erebor, the Lonely Mountain."

Frodo shot a panicked look at Sam, by now well-used to how long Gimli's stories could be. Sam grinned back at him, "I'd better lead Bill, Sir. You go up front with Mister Gimli."

As Frodo began to walk up to the front with Gimli, he made plans to get back at Sam for this. The dratted gardener knew just how long-winded Gimli's stories were, and yet he was abandoning him to them – oh, he would enjoy thinking up a suitable punishment for this!

The journey was steady, yet brisk. Gandalf led them over the rocks and slopes of the country, Legolas running briefly ahead of the wizard to scout out ahead. The stones were hard on the travellers' feet, and the wind whipped about their faces bitterly. Scowling, Pippin hitched the straps on his pack up and began to scramble up the side of the steep hill of rocks they were attempting to climb. He began to swear animatedly as once, twice, three times he slipped back down to the ground, glowering as Merry agilely hopped from rock to rock. Tooks were meant to be the nimble hobbits, he thought darkly, and once again began to struggle.

"Try again, Master Hobbit!" Legolas called from the top of the hill (the elf had been able to spring up the hill on one go). Pippin growled something uncomplimentary about the elf race in general and made a valiant leap, clinging to a rock for dear life. As he pulled himself up, he looked down. Below him, Gimli was floundering in the gravel where he had landed for the sixth time, and Frodo was steadily making his way up. Gandalf and Aragorn were about half way up, and the wizard was now grabbing the hand of Boromir and pulling the man to his feet. Surprisingly, Bill the pony had managed to canter swiftly up the side, and now elf and pony were watching the rest of the Fellowship with something akin to amusement.

Pippin turned around from his perch to see Sam just behind him. The hobbit's face was etched with fear, and every time he tried to grab for another hold, his hands, shaking and moist, would slip free.

"Here you go Sam," Pippin said, seizing Sam's wrist and pulling the hobbit up to sit next to him. Panting, Sam dragged a hand across his face and grimaced. Pippin frowned, "You really don't look well, you know."

"Thankyou, Mister Pippin," Sam grumbled, "But I'm sure I'll do fine," He sighed, shaking his head, and began to make another attempt at scaling the hill. Pippin bit his lip with anxiety as he watched the hobbit's progress. His eyes had looked awfully unfocused.

"We're waiting for you, Pip!" Merry called, as Pippin sprang up onto another rock, "Come on, slowcoach!"

Pippin made a face as, finally, he reached the top, "You can't rush these things, Merry," He told his grinning-cousin sagely, "But thank you for your concern."

"Welcome," Merry smiled good-naturedly, cupping his hands about his eyes and looking back to where they had come, "Elbereth, Frodo! Will you look at that view?" The wind blew his hair back from his face, and he grinned as he saw the landscape light up with the sun. Woods, rivers and rocks could be seen for miles, all tinted with a golden light, "Why, that's a pretty picture and no mistake." The Fellowship nodded in assent and gathered around, looking out in wonder at the land.

Sam, too, was looking out. Away from the others, he walked to the side of the precipice they were now standing on and looked down. To the left was the path they had made, and to the right, a steep slope careening straight into a gulf surrounded by forest. Swallowing, he looked up, and turned his head to the land, "My, that's a grand place we've come from," He murmured. Wiping a hand across his brow, he frowned as the headache he had been battling with to ignore pounded stronger at his skull. Oddly enough, although it was so bright and clear, the landscape was trying to swim before his very eyes. 'Strange, that,' he thought, 'What dos Eru think he's doing, trying to do unnatural things to the landscape?' He opened his mouth to voice his opinion, but no sound came out. His throat was dry and no air passed through, and his chest ached in pain. Panicking, he tried to force it, gulping down large mouthfuls of air, but still, the screaming pain in his lungs would not be satisfied. He tried to cry for help, and all went black.

Frodo was the first one to turn from the sunset. Looking around for Sam, his eyes widened as he saw the small figure sway towards the brink.

"SAM!" He screamed, and even as the rest turned, Sam fell across the edge and toppled into the abyss below.

-0000-

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Ooh, second chapter already...I can barely contain my excitement!

-000000-

Aragorn stood, frozen, for a brief second, even as Sam's form disappeared from sight. For a few seconds, the entire Fellowship stared in horror at the empty space, and then all hell broke lose.

"SAM!"

Merry was the first to move. Furthest away from the brink, he managed to push his way past Gimli and Legolas before a pair of strong arms locked themselves around him and pulled his feet off the ground. Yelling and screaming, the young Brandybuck kicked, punched and struggled as Gandalf kept the hobbit back from the precipice.

"No…NO!" Gandalf hissed as Merry fought, "I will not have another of our Fellowship fall to their doom! All of you stay back….Aragorn! Boromir! Watch them!"

As a small blur raced past him, Aragorn saw Boromir grab Frodo by the waist and pull him back to safety. The next second, the Ranger whirled round and caught Pippin squarely in the chest, lifting him up into the air, where his pounding feet could do less damage.

"Let me go!" Pippin wept into Aragorn's shoulder, pounding at him with all his might, "I might be able to get to him….just let me go, will you?"

Merry was shouting the same thing at Gandalf, while Frodo had given up all hope of swaying Boromir. Already overcome by grief, the Ringbearer was sobbing desperately as he drove his fists and feet into any part of Boromir he could reach. Gimli had grabbed Bill's reigns and pulled him away from the continuing fight, burying his face into the pony's reigns in an attempt to cover his fear and grief. Legolas stood at the edge of the cliff, his face unreadable.

Gandalf had the worst job of it. Merry, a young hobbit who had gotten into his fair share of fights, both honourable and unsporting, was using any opportunity to fight dirty with the wizard, using his fists, knees, head, feet, and teeth to lay into him. Pippin, though not blessed with the experience that Merry had, was used to getting out of small spaces, so instead of fighting, was trying to wriggle out of his captors grasp. Frodo, with a strength that Aragorn had never seen before in one so small, was not even trying to rid himself of Boromir, but was simply trying to run to the edge of the cliff, as if he thought he could drag the man with him.

"Aragorn!" The Ranger looked up to see Gimli, still grasping the reigns, a look of horror on his face, "'Ware the elf!"

Aragorn turned round just in time to see Legolas, a speeding, blurred form, sprinting past time and scramble down over the edge.

"Legolas, NO!" Aragorn would have turned and ran over the edge to save his friend at that very moment, if Gandalf, gasping for breath and now holding a still-struggling Merry under one arm, had grabbed his shoulder with surprising strength.

"Leave him!" The wizard shouted, "Leave him….I hardly think you have the speed and agility of the elves, Aragorn! See, he does not leap, foolhardily, as the rest of you would, but makes his way slowly down!" Gandalf's voice softened, "He will live, Aragorn, never fear. But keep an eye on your small charge!"

As Frodo sobbed, and Gandalf barked something at Merry, Aragorn knelt down and placed Pippin on the ground, still holding him tightly by the shoulders, "Hush, Pippin," He whispered, patting the trembling hobbit on the back, "Sam will be alright. Legolas has gone to fetch him, see?"

Pippin hiccupped, rubbing his fists into his eyes, "Is S-Sam really ill, Strider?"

Aragorn frowned, unwilling to lie to the little one, "He may turn out to be, Pippin, if we do not find a remedy for his sickness soon," The man winced as Pippin's sobs intensified, and Merry turned round from where he had been shouting obscenities at Gandalf to glower at him, "Have hope, Peregrin. What would Sam say if he saw you like this?"

The smallest hobbit looked up, still hiccupping, and grinned shakily, his green eyes still watery.

"He wouldn't like it t'all, would he?"

Aragorn shook his head, patting the hobbit on the shoulder, "Dry your eyes, Pippin. Legolas will find him."

-000000-

"Sam? Sam!"

Legolas lifted his head, springing lightly from one rock to another, making steady work down the cliff face. It was hard work, and slow work, as the rocks were uneven and shaken. A mortal would completely dislodge them. Legolas closed his eyes and took hold of an out-jutting rock, pulling himself in towards the cliff as the wind whipped round his body. For an instant, he thought of what would have happened, had Gandalf, Boromir and Aragorn not been at hand. Another one of the little ones plunging to their death. The elf sighed, before letting go and dropping smoothly to the bottom, springing away from the ground he landed on a second before the rock he had taken hold of crashed on top of him.

The trail of dust and disturbed rocks that showed where Sam must have rolled was careening down the slope and across to the left, swerving away from the gulf that he had assumed Sam had fell to his doom in. Smiling slightly in relief, his eyes scanned the ground as he followed the down-sloping trail into the forest. Here the light was beginning to dim, as sunlight crept away from the land, and evening began to steal in. Cursing the time left to him, the elf doubled his efforts to find the hobbit. If Sam was left out here, in his condition, in the night, Eru alone knew what would happen to him…

Starting, Legolas realised that he had been standing still for at least five minutes, lost in his thoughts. In shock, he realised the journey down the cliff alone had taken more than half an hour. He shook his head in horror. If he hadn't been so concerned about his own safety, surely he would have found Sam by now! And the hobbit was still out here, alone and cold. Time was pressing on.

"Sam! _Sam_!"

There was no answer. Panic now pumping through him, the elf moved quickly, following the trail through the forest. He could hear his own footsteps, uncommonly loud, drowning out everything else. All else was silent in the wood, save for his own breathing…and the soft breathing of someone else….a much smaller person…

Legolas let out a cry, running forward and dropping to his knees as he spied the small bundle that had landed next to the trunk of an old oak tree. Breathing deeply, he reached out and gently rolled the hobbit over on his back. Sam's face was scrunched up in pain, the colour now a very definite blanched white colour. Sweat evenly coated his head, neck and hands, which were now trembling violently. Sam's whole body shook and doubled up, until the hobbit was coughing and spluttering for breath.

"Easy….easy…." Legolas whispered, helping Sam up to his knees and rubbing his back in a circulatory manner, "Hush, _perian_, hush. It will all be over soon."

Sam retched, bending over on all fours to throw up. Closing his eyes at the stink, Legolas supported him, holding him by the shoulders until he was finished. The lad hardly looked better for his efforts, and collapsed against Legolas' body, closing his eyes and whimpering slightly.

Legolas looked at the hobbit with tired, sad eyes, "Come, master hobbit, you need rest," Even though Sam could no longer hear him, Legolas laughed slightly, "I will not hear one word of your protests. This time, I shall carry you."

He lifted the hobbit gently up into his arms, marvelling at how light he was, and stood up, beginning to walk the long trek back up to the Fellowship.

-000000-

"It's been over an hour," Merry grumbled sourly, pacing along the cliff's side.

Pippin sighed, running his hands through his hair and sniffing slightly. Legolas had been gone for what seemed like an Age now, and Merry, never one to be patient at the best of times, was suddenly sparking and crackling like an irritable firework, waiting to go off. Privately, Pippin thought Merry had a point. Where _was_ Legolas? Surely it would have been better for one of them to go down with him – after all, two pairs of eyes _were_ better than one. Dammit, he should have been back ages ago… But if Merry was this tense now, Pippin didn't particularly want to join him. The rest of the Fellowship didn't look like they could handle another angry hobbit.

His cousin kicked the pebbles that littered the ground, and shook his head, "He should have been back by now…"

None of them answered. Boromir, as impatient a being as Merry, but with more control, leant against one of the few maple trees that were scattered sparsely about with cliff side, tensely sheathing and unsheathing his sword, "If I made my way slowly down…the elf might need help…"

Gandalf shook his head firmly, looking up from where he and Aragorn had been hastily gathering herbs together, "Boromir of Gondor, if you dare to take one step closer to that cliff edge, I promise that you shall regret it for the rest of you life. I will _not_ have another member of the Fellowship diving off that cliff…."

"What do you mean _you_?" Merry snapped indignantly, cutting across Gandalf's talk, "If anyone should go down to find Sam, it should be one of the Shirefolk!"

"_As_ I was saying, no-one is to go down…"

"Now, Master Meriadoc," Boromir said fondly, "I admire your courage, but it would be folly for any one of your kinsfolk – or, indeed, yourself – to try and venture down there – especially as your, ah, impatience tends to show itself."

"_Neither_ of you will be going…"

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?" Merry walked forward, now glowering furiously up at the Man of Gondor, hands planted firmly on his hips, "That a Man, who by all means should try and brave the Cliffside, but would sooner fall than get half the way down, be more successful than a hobbit?"

"Master Meria…."

"What I mean," Boromir retorted, eyes now blazing with something akin to anger, "is that, in view of your present state of mind, the second you were to set your feet on the rocks that would serve as footholds, your impatience would kick them clean off and you would fall to your death!"

Gandalf was regarding the pair with building impatience, Pippin noticed, and buried his head further into his sleeves to avoid running the risk of being a target for the wizard's wrath.

"And you believe that you would do better, I suppose?"

"Yes, when the heat's on!"

"ENOUGH!" Gandalf suddenly roared, rising to his feet and fixing the pair with a fire-filled stare. Merry, who had been in the act on unsheathing his sword, dropped it hastily on the ground and cowered slightly, and even Boromir shrunk back from where he had been leaning down to shout at Merry.

"Enough," The wizard repeated, aware of the fact that Gimli was hiding a slight smile, and both Frodo and Pippin had retreated around the fire to the safety of Boromir, "Fighting amongst ourselves will never rectify any wrong that has been caused. _None_ of you will be going down the Cliffside, not you, Boromir, Lord of Gondor, nor you, Meriadoc, future Master of Buckland, neither Aragorn, neither Gimli, not Frodo, and most _certainly_ not you, Peregrin Took!" Pippin let out another squeak, and huddled further into the warm comfort of Aragorn's shoulder, "We will wait, and pray that they get back before too long."

Pippin sniffled slightly, and crawled around Aragorn to sit next to Frodo, "Fro," He mumbled, "Is Sam going to be alright?"

Frodo looked up, and Pippin saw with a shock that Frodo's face had turned a washed-out, pallid white, and that his eyes, already worn and tired, were ringed with red. Stifling a gasp, Pippin realised what he had never thought about before; Frodo truly did care for Sam, and didn't consider him as a gardener, but a friend.

"Oh, I hope so Pip," And the voice was shaking, "I truly hope so."

Pippin nodded, and nudging Frodo to move his arm, nestled into the affectionate, tender embrace of his cousin.

-000000-

Legolas took a sharp gasp as he struggled up the slope. Mounting it before hand had been easy enough, but then he had been energized, well-fed and his hands had been free. He was about halfway up, and desperately tired. It was now well into the evening, and he could hear the quiet murmurs of voices just above him.

'If only one of them would look down,' He thought, elvish pride barring him from crying out for help, 'but I shall not call for aid, no, not while Eru still rules in the heavens!'

The elf took a short rest on one of the studier footholds, pressing himself into the rock as the wind, now fiercer than ever, howled around him. Sam had slumped into a deep sleep, his breathing at least easier. Legolas smiled at the thought that now, at least, Sam would be freed from the pain brought by the fever. But linger here too long, and he may not wake up, he chided himself.

Looking up into the night sky, the pale moonlight illuminated his way up. Grasping the rocks with one hand, and clutching Sam around the shoulders with the other, the elf managed to struggle upwards across the wide stretch of rock between him and the plateau. Legolas was almost able to place his hand across the flat land where the rest of the Fellowship were camped, before his foot, which he had carelessly placed on an out jutting rock which looked as though it could fall any second, slipped.

"AI!"

The voices from above him halted, and the next second, Aragorn's face was suspended above him, "Legolas? _Melon_, are you alright?"

"I am fine, though it may not be the case in a few more minutes," Legolas, teeth gritted, explained, "Aragorn, the _perian_…I cannot hold him for much longer."

Frodo's face, covered with both relief and fear, appeared next to Aragorn's, "Sam! Legolas, is he alive? Is he hurt?"

"He is alive, but mayn't be so for long."

"Hullo Legolas!" Pippin's gleeful face peered down, "Are you alright? We've been waiting for _ages_…"

Aragorn cut off the hobbit's prattle and stretched his hands down, taking the limp Sam's body from Legolas by the shoulders and pulling him up and over the cliff's edge. The Ranger frowned at Sam's weak breath, and picked up the hobbit, holding him easily above Frodo, Merry and Pippin's clamouring voices and outstretched hands. Gimli, who had been looking grimly looking down at the elf during the exchange, sighed and, with a last regretful look at Aragorn, knelt down and held his hand out to Legolas.

Legolas barely managed to hold on, such a shock was this. Why was the dwarf offering to help him? Eru knew, until now, Legolas had always assumed that Gimli would gladly have pushed him off a cliff, had he the chance. What was he doing? Was he planning on dropping him?

Various shades of irritation and exasperation flitted across Gimli's face, "Come, Master Elf, I do not wait forever! You were mightily foolish to leap down the cliff like that, but now take my hand and pull yourself up, or your mightily foolish self will fall to your doom, and I highly doubt that even an elf would survive such a fall. _Durin_, but these elves are such a suspicious race!"

An uncharacteristic scowl passing over his face, Legolas reached up with his own slender hand, and grabbed the dwarf's gloved one. Struggling, the pair managed to draw the elf up, and finally, Legolas pulled himself over the edge and lay, almost collapsed, on the step. He was not hurt, but the alarm he had felt when his foot slipped was in him, and shaking his body, and it took a couple of goes before he could sit up.

The dwarf was looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face, "A word in your pointed ear, Master Elf," He muttered, and the scowl deepened slightly on Legolas' usually fair face, "If any of these mighty men do ask how you finished your journey, inform them you pulled yourself up, if you please. It would be best to your advantage, and mine, I think."

Legolas nodded slowly, all thought of a truce with this strange and inexplicable dwarf forgotten, "I would not have thought of telling them anything else," He said, and was rewarded with a small 'harrumph'.

-000000-

Pippin balled up his cloak, teeth chattering slightly, and placed it under Sam's head, "Is he going to be alright, Strider?" He asked, a small smile still on his face, "Legolas found him, so really, he should be alright now."

Aragorn turned his face so the youngest hobbit would not be able to see the grief and doubt etched on his face, and busied himself by checking Sam's vital signs and placing a hand across his brow, checking his temperature. Frodo was already kneeling at his servant's side, holding Sam's dirty hand with his own pale one. As he squeezed the stiff hand soothingly in a desperate attempt to wake Sam, Frodo noticed the blanched pallor of Sam's skin, and his grey eyes, usually filled with some joy or anger, had slid open and were now dulled, staring into the night sky and were glazed.

Frodo let out a cry, holding Sam's hand tight, "He's awake! Strider, Gandalf, he's awake!"

Both wizard and man were bent over Sam in a second, the rest of the Fellowship gathering around. Gandalf shook the hobbit's body gently, "Samwise? Samwise, can you speak to us?" Sam tossed in pure agony from side to side, eyes still glassy and staring upward, "Hold him! Aragorn, hold him still!" Aragorn and Boromir bent over Sam and held him firmly down by the shoulders.

Boromir had to crane slightly, as Frodo would not move from his place by Sam's side. The hobbit's eyes were filled with unshed tears, the hand not clasping Sam's own shaking violently.

"He is alive, but separated from us," Gandalf muttered severely, passing a hand lightly over Sam's brow, "Oh, that I had spoken lighter to him while I had the chance!"

Sam let out a horror-filled, broken cry as Gandalf's hand touched his forehead, eyes now blinking rapidly. Legolas took Sam's other hand, murmuring words of comfort in elvish to the hobbit. The silence that followed was only broken by Legolas' constant whispering, Sam's harsh breathing and occasional gasps of pain. To Pippin, it seemed as though the rest of the Fellowship were too frightened to breath.

Finally, Gandalf let out a long-held breath, causing the rest of the group to look up in expectance, "I cannot read his mind," He breathed, causing Frodo's breath to hitch, "He is departed from it in a chance to escape the fever."

"But what caused it?" Merry exclaimed, "What would cause such a…such a suffering?"

"The fever _Nifraeg_," Aragorn muttered, in a voice low with weariness, "In the common tongue it is named Fear-Pain, but there have been too few cases these past years for it to be recorded. I felt it in the valley we past through these past few days, it hung in the air like a shadow. I believe the rabbits we caught for our supper were infected with it, and Sam, in preparing our food, was closest in contact with the disease, but the fire he stewed the rabbits over killed the virus. I suspected it," Here Aragorn hung his head, his long brown hair hiding his expression, "and yet I did not speak."

There was silence amongst the Fellowship.

Gimli was the first to speak, "Aye, but what does this _Nifraeg_, or whatever nonsense the elves have chosen to name it, do? What ill news bodes for the young hobbit?"

Aragorn held silent. Squashed in between Merry and the man and peering over at the now-still Sam, Pippin felt the Man's shoulders shaking, and looked up in alarm to see Aragorn, head bowed, one lone tear falling past his eyes.

Legolas answered the dwarf, "The elves have named it well, Master Dwarf, though you do not realise it," His voice was tight, "The illness spreads through the body in all the usual way – fever, a temperature, dizziness, unconsciousness. But in the mind – it spreads throughout the mind like a fire through a forest. It is nothing when likened to what Frodo went through following the fight upon Weathertop," He added quickly, nodding at the hobbits, "But in itself, it is a fearsome thing."

Sam, who had been silent up until now, let out a quiet moan and the hand that Frodo still held went limp, his breathing barely audible by now. Gandalf let out another gruff sigh. Irrepressible hobbits! Why he had let Sam come along on this journey at all he could barely fathom. True, Samwise _was_ Frodo's servant, and therefore only Frodo could bar him from coming, but still, whenever he closed his eyes and pictured the hobbits, Sam's face was always surrounded by the woods and the fields, the flowers and plants he worked so diligently to protect. Not here. Gandalf shook his head again, a small smile coming to his lips. He could just picture Sam's face if he woke and saw them all surrounding him here!

"We will do him no good surrounding him like mother hens," He said, as all the Fellowship turned to face him, "Boromir, waken Meriadoc when your watch is finished – that is, if you can do that simple task without ripping each others heads off?" The pair looked guiltily at the floor, "Very well. Get some rest, you others."

Pippin looked across Sam's body at his cousin, as the rest of them moved away, "Frodo? Gandalf said to get some sleep."

Frodo was still staring down at Sam, "I'm not tired."

"Now then, Fro! You heard what Gandalf said, and it's been a busy day for all of us."

Frodo shook his head, tight-lipped and pale, "No, Pip. You sleep, I'll wait here."

Pippin sighed, and got up, unbuckling his pack from Bill and fetching his blanket, before looking sadly at Frodo, "I'm worried for you, cousin."

To Pippin's surprise, Frodo began to cry, deep, agonized sobs that shook his entire body and filled Pippin with sorrow, "I cannot leave him, Pippin!" Frodo burst out, burying his head in his hands, "Can't you see that?"

The young Took ran forward wrapping his arms around Frodo and hugging him with deep sincerity, "Now, Frodo, Sam wouldn't begrudge you a few hours sleep, would he?" He asked, trying to sound light-hearted.

"No," Frodo wept, "and neither would I him. And yet he did wait, he stayed beside my bedside through many a long night while I suffered from the Nazgul blade," Pippin looked at Frodo in alarm, and it seemed to him that his cousin began to shrink, and his face began to dim, "Aye, he waited, though I did not ask. And now, when our places are exchanged," The older hobbit started to cry afresh, "it fills me with horror and guilt that, try as I might, I may not be able to do the same for him!"

Pippin closed his eyes, burying his face in Frodo's hair, and he held him like that for a long time.

-000000-

**A/N**: And now, ladies and gentlehobbits, review replies! (with help from Merry and Pippin - apparently I can't reply to reviews by myself).

**cookiefleck: **Enjoying the fellowship interplay...  
**Merry**: We all love each other really. Well, except for Legolas and Gimli...  
**cookiefleck**: Hope you update soon so I can find out what's happened to poor Sam.  
**Pippin**: And poor us! We have no idea what is happening!

**rabidsamfan**: Oh, this looks promising. yay! cliffhanger!  
**Merry**: Excellent choice of words, rabidsamfan. Cliffhanger indeed. Especially for poor Legolas.

**lovethosehobbits**: GASP! More soon, ok?  
**Pippin**: (love the penname!) Yes, indeed...wouldn't want to leave poor Sam in such a pickle, would we? Well, if it would mean less embaressing stories about me coming up, I'd be tempted...

**Althea**: It's always a pleasure to read a Sam story..  
**Merry**: And a Merry story...hint hint.  
**Althea: ** I like the way you have depicted Sam. He's always busy serving the others and trying to help.  
**Pippin**: I don't know what we'd do without Sam...starve, I think!

**TBC...**


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